


His Face

by Plume8now



Category: Torchwood
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Pain, Season 3, alternative ending, i guess, like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plume8now/pseuds/Plume8now
Summary: His moves where clumsy, shivering. He heard screams around him, there were noises, there were people suffering, there were people dying.He ran. He ran, stumbled, kept running. There was something which blurred his vision – something which ran down his cheek. He stumbled again, and fell.Ianto was only a few step away from him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fafsernir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/gifts).



> Hello~  
> So, honestly? I wrote this in July. I was season 1 back then. Didn't know anything about the end of season 2, and even less 3. I just had feels, was all angst etc. and my friend Fafsernir made the mistake to ask for a fanart right at that moment... and then I wanted to write something so I did.  
> A week ago, I watched season 3.  
> Yeah, now I have the authorization to post this. And I'm still crying.

Inspired by my fanart: <http://yumenofude.tumblr.com/post/152081633835/heres-the-story-it-was-at-the-beginning-of-july>

* * *

 

 

He found him on the floor, lying there, motionless. Jack's heartbeat grew faster. He felt like everything was falling down around him.

His face had lost all expression.

Blam, blam. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard it hurt him.

 _His face had lost all expression_.

He ran. He ran, stumbled, kept running. There was something which blurred his vision – something which ran down his cheek. He stumbled again, and fell.

Ianto was only a few step away from him.

So he just crawled, faster than he ever did in his entire life. His moves where clumsy, shivering. He heard screams around him, there were noises, there were people suffering, there were people dying.

There was Ianto.

There was Ianto, in his perfect shirt, well-dressed, as usual, his tie correctly put around his neck – he'd always make reflexions about his, not tightened enough, too much loose, according to him. What Ianto didn't know was that he was doing this on purpose. Because he wanted the archivist to notice it – to notice him. And, well, if he wanted it to be put in the right way, he only had to go to him and do it himself.

Now, there were a little bit of blood on his beautiful tie. The one Jack had given him just for fun, because Ianto was so obsessed with his suit. Or maybe it was him, the one who'd been obsessed with his suit. For Ianto was so handsome he couldn't help but peer him.

“Ianto!” he shouted.

He wasn't moving.

He wasn't moving.

“Ianto!” he screamed, again. And again. And again. He kept screaming his name until his voice broke down. He was breathless, his face was nothing but tears.

His hands were bleeding, his fingers skinless. He stood up a moment, with a sudden strenght he didn't know he still had, to fall again on his knees, this time. He fell on his kness in front of Ianto – Ianto's body.

Slowly, he put his bloody hand next to his neck, to check his pulse. There was nothing.

Quietly, still trembling, he took his wrist. And waited. Waited for any sign of life. But still, there was nothing. So he assumed, he was so panicked, his own body was so opressed, he must have taken it bad.

He leaned on his face, his quiet face, his unexpressive face. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin was pale, a little trail of blood marked his lips. _Blood_.

“Ianto,” he whispered. “Please, answer me.”

Please.

He tried to help him breath, abortively. Desesperate, he kissed him, talked to him, whispered him things, without ever stopping. He took him in harms, rocked him, sobbing. His body felt like he was cold already.

His mind broke to the thought. That's when, he realized. He hugged him, held him in his harm, prayed for him to come back. But there were no coming back, were there? Because he was Ianto Jones, and he was mortal.

_Death._

Blinded by the pain, he let out a heartbreaking scream of despair.

 

* * *

Bonus: <http://yumenofude.tumblr.com/post/152257879215/torchwood-spoilers>

**Author's Note:**

> I drew a lot of stuff for the Torchwood Fest if you're interested, especially a lot of fluff for Janto, Jack and Ianto etc.  
> If you're interested in my art you can check me out on Tumblr under the name of "Yumenofude"!  
> Please leave me a kudo, bookmark or comment to let me know your thoughts!


End file.
